


Polarize

by oddphantom



Series: Live Wire [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Phantom Can't tag for shit, Rimming, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, video games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 04:33:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16110893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddphantom/pseuds/oddphantom
Summary: “Tell Sam I said hey.”Bucky smirked. “Tell him that right now? Get up from this table and get my phone and do that?”“Maybe in a minute,” Steve admitted. They kissed for a while like that, Steve eventually standing to get leverage and for a moment Bucky thought he might lay them both back onto the table right then, when their hips slotted together and Steve tangled his hand more roughly into Bucky’s hair.  But Steve sighed instead and mumbled, almost right against Bucky’s lips, “I really should get a few more of these done.”





	Polarize

**Author's Note:**

> This took much too long! Thank you all for your wonderful comments last time. You're all stunning. Also, this is a series now! I will probably doing more scenes with these boys so if you have requests, send them my way!  
> Edit: Did you happen to stumble across this fic and find spelling and HTML errors? that’s because I had a draft up, and not the final thing, for almost 24 hours. Whoops. The current one may suck just a bit less.

Bucky’s a simple guy. He only asks for a few things in life: for people not to piss him off when he hasn’t had coffee yet, for people to not bitch at him to get a haircut, and for Steve to not fucking work on Sundays. 

Here’s the thing, Bucky doesn’t ever really try to stop Steve from working- that’s a lie, alright, but.. Within reason. But, he and Steve always,  _ always  _ spend Sundays together. They usually spend Saturday together too, to be fair, but that’s the day they might do work and not talk for hours, or Bucky might go hang out with his friends, or Steve might go out with his own friends or coworkers -the ones he doesn’t hate- and Bucky is perfectly fine being at Steve’s house alone. But Sundays, Steve is supposed to sleep in with Bucky, and then they always either make or go out to breakfast. Truthfully, Bucky usually gets fucked on Sunday. 

So, can someone please explain to Bucky why he woke up in bed alone with the covers on Steve’s side of the bed shoved back? 

Bucky knows  _ why,  _ it’s because midterms just ended and he feels like if he doesn’t grade every single one this weekend that the world will end or something. Even though he  _ knows  _ that it isn’t feasible to grade almost two hundred midterms, none of which are multiple choice. For Steve, grading isn’t just flipping through answers and giving a black and white correct or incorrect, because instead he figures out where whoever it was made a mistake and then follow their logic on the rest of the question. That way, you don’t lose a whole ten point problem that takes up a page and a half for adding incorrectly. It’s nice of him. 

It also means that Bucky just woke up  _ alone.  _ On  _ Sunday.  _ He sits up and sighs, putting his face in his hands for a moment. He pulls a worn sweatshirt from Steve’s dresser because it’s oversized and also because he’s crabby and he can. He wanders into the bathroom to brush his teeth and comb the mess out of his hair so he can pull it back before he goes downstairs. 

Steve’s at the kitchen table with a stack of papers on his right and one on his left, pen in hand. Bucky can tell without looking too hard that the pen is purple because Steve says red is too ‘menacing,’ whatever that means. He looks up when he hears Bucky’s footsteps, apologetic. 

“Morning,” He says, “There’s coffee in the kitchen.” 

Bucky says, “Morning, love,” and makes a beeline for the coffee machine, where Steve’s already set out a mug, the sugar, and Bucky’s coffee creamer. Steve is some sort of alien who drinks black coffee and enjoys it, but since Bucky doesn’t hate himself, he fixes his coffee to taste still kind of like coffee but less oppressive. He sits on the table next to where Steve is sitting. Steve sets down his pen and stands up, stretching before appraising Bucky and smiling fondly. 

“Hi honey,” He murmurs and moves to stand in front of Bucky. He adjusts the hood on Bucky’s -Steve’s- sweater so it sits flatter on his back. It’s less of a this-needed-to-be-done adjustment and more of letting Bucky know he recognizes the stolen sweater and finds it endearing. Bucky kicks his feet so they swing under the table. 

“Are you busy?” Bucky asks. He’s only a finicky asshole in his head, not out loud, you know. He has, like, manners. 

“Um. Not actually, but I just wanted a head start. I can, uh...” probably Steve  _ almost  _ offered to stop, but realized he’d rather not. 

Of fucking course Bucky wants that. “Oh no, no, don’t stop on my account. I’ll read or something”. Steve sighs and his lips turn up at the corners, but it’s a conscious thing. “I’ll only be a little longer.” Bucky nods and smiles, encouraging. Steve steps back to go into the kitchen to get more coffee. 

Bucky hops down from the table and goes to the living room where he left his book last night. It’s on a side table next to the couch, page dog eared even though he fell asleep on the couch with it on his lap. Bucky thinks he remembers that, Steve lifting the book from his lap and closing it, setting it aside before he coaxed Bucky upstairs. 

He’d gone out last night, just with Sam and a few others, even though being around that group always ends up with Bucky standing in a parking lot while they- excluding he and Sam, who blame soccer season- smoke cigarettes and talk about things they think are deep but aren’t. Bucky and Sam had a conversation exclusively through looks and head nods before Bucky made an excuse for them to duck out early. They went back to Sam’s alone to play video games in the basement, until Bucky told Sam he wanted to get home. 

“Uh- huh,” Sam had said, “Straight home, right? Tell Rogers I say hi.” 

Bucky glared at him lightheartedly. “You know for a fact I don’t hang out at my house.” 

“I don’t blame you for that one.” 

Bucky, lightening the mood: “Yeah, I don’t get laid  _ nearly  _ as often in my own house.”

“Oh, but you sometimes do?” 

“More often than you get laid at all,” Bucky said, except laughter cut his words. 

Sam shoved him so hard he fell to his side. Bucky laughed harder. “Get out of my house,” 

 

He didn’t get laid when he got home. He pulled up to Steve’s house at almost two in the morning, not expecting Steve to be asleep yet but not expecting him to still be up at his kitchen table, as he had been. Steve had smiled at him, looking exhausted. He’d been texting Steve all night, but Steve worries anyway. 

“What’re you still doing working?” Bucky had asked, pushing Steve’s stuff back so he could hop onto the table.

Steve smiled, endeared. “Midterms and finals take forever to grade. Twice as long as a normal test, at least. Did you have fun?” He question- dodged. Steve moved his chair in, closer to Bucky. 

Bucky nodded, shrugged. “We hung out with the usual people but then it was really boring so me and Sam went to his house. Sam says hi.” As Bucky talked, Steve had pulled the elastic from his hair, stashing it on his own wrist. He’d pulled at his hair and combed with his fingers until it sat down his back, wavy but neat. He told Bucky all the time it was pretty like that. Bucky’s eyelids fluttered at the sensation.

“Tell Sam I said hey.” 

Bucky smirked. “Tell him that right now? Get up from this table and get my phone and do that?” 

“Maybe in a minute,” Steve admitted. They kissed for a while like that, Steve eventually standing to get leverage and for a moment Bucky thought he might lay them both back onto the table right then, their hips slotted together and Steve tangling his hand more roughly into Bucky’s hair.  But Steve sighed instead and mumbled, almost right against Bucky’s lips, “I really should get a few more of these done.” 

Bucky had sighed, but nodded. See, even though it was after midnight and  _ technically  _ Sunday, it wouldn’t be  _ sunday-  _ sunday until he’d gone to sleep and woken up. So he, without any qualms, settled into the couch to keep reading. He’s pretty sure he fell asleep like that, because he remembers Steve waking him gently, coaxing him into pulling off his jeans, brushing his teeth, and collapsing into bed. Steve had pulled him against his chest and stroked his hair, as if Bucky needed any more encouragement to fall asleep. 

Then Bucky woke up alone. 

-

But, hey, Bucky’s a grownup, he could spend a day without Steve’s undivided attention and not die. He did, however, elect to bring his book into the kitchen, settle down across from Steve. Steve was squinting at his stack of papers again, a fresh cup of coffee next to him. 

_ See, Bucky? Calm the fuck down. He’s  _ busy. 

Bucky opened his book. He’s reasonable. He can function. 

 

He reads three chapters and two pages before just under an hour has passed. Steve’s still going. Bucky’s out of coffee and he’s kind of hungry for breakfast. He stands up and stretches. On his way into the kitchen he grabs Steve’s empty mug and Steve smiles at him sweetly with closed lips, doesn’t talk. 

Bucky takes enough initiative to make enough food for Steve as well as himself, able to figure Steve hasn’t had anything that day that resembled protein. Bucky doesn’t know quite what the time was when he woke up, he forgot to glance at the clock, but it was almost noon now. He pours Steve some coffee and brings it to him, but when he sets it down he says, “Last one, though,” before Steve can thank him. 

Steve smiles at him. “Last one for now?” He tries to reason.

Bucky walks back into the kitchen. “How much water have you had today that was see- through?” 

Steve says, “Well,” and Bucky says “Uh-huh.” 

 

Bucky moves around the kitchen, making scrambled eggs and toasting bread. Nothing fancy. He burns himself a little on the pan, but instead of prancing around bitching about it so Steve will pay attention to it- the way he  _ doesn’t  _ normally do- he runs cold water on it and pulls his eggs off the heat once they’re done. 

See? Breakfast. It’s Sunday. 

He wonders if the ritual together- Sundays are something that ever even occurred to Steve, or if Bucky’s just insane and they just coincidentally never make plans for these days. Probably, Steve doesn’t even know he’s not abiding by the rules. Normally they cook  _ together  _ and it’s something a little better than Bucky’s best attempt at eggs. He pulls two plates from the cabinet and says “Hey, I made food.” 

Steve turns around in his seat, says, “Oh, that’s amazing, baby. Give me one minute to finish this up.” 

Bucky sighs and puts food on his own plate, eating right in the kitchen instead of at the table. Steve flips the test into the pile next to him for the ‘done’ ones and hurries into the kitchen. 

“This is wonderful, Bucky. Thank you. I’m sorry I’m being boring. You’re so good to me,” He says, kissing the top of Bucky’s head. He gets himself food and eats in the kitchen with Bucky. He gets a glass of water from the tap and smiles at Bucky before he starts drinking it. 

“I hate for you to sit around all day, you could see if Sam or someone could do something. I don’t want to bore you.” Steve suggests. 

Bucky‘s literally about to lose his shit. “Yeah, probably. I’ll text him in a little bit.” Does Steve not  _ realize  _ that to hang out with Sam today could possibly throw the fate of the universe out of alignment? 

_ If Steve wants to work today, Bucky, let him.  _

Bucky feels-- well,  _ something _ welling in his throat. Because, like, Steve already doesn’t let them do anything out of the house. He’s always all over his ass about homework just because he  _ can  _ be, and now he won’t even hang out with Bucky. Even though it  _ is  _ a weekend and Bucky  _ isn’t  _ asking to go anywhere and Bucky’s actually doing pretty damn well in school. Bucky clenches his jaw so he doesn’t let the feeling get out. Whatever thick, oppressive thing is attempting to crawl up his throat and out his mouth. He snaps out of his thoughts when Steve clatters his plate into the sink and Bucky realizes he’s been neglecting his own for a while. Steve says, “Are you alright, Bucky?” he looks worried, but then glances to the table where his work is set up. Bucky gets the idea.

“I’m good,” Bucky says, “I spaced out for a second.” He hops off the counter and gets back to eating methodically. 

“Okay, baby,” Steve says, stroking Bucky’s hair for a minute. “Thank you for breakfast. Are you gonna try to go out?” 

Bucky shrugs. “Yeah, I’ll hang out with someone.” 

Steve smiles, “Okay, good.” He goes back to the table. Bucky sighs quietly and sits there, plate on his lap until he thinks he’s choked down a reasonable amount of food. He runs upstairs to grab his phone from the nightstand.

He saw Sam last night, so he texts Natasha first. 

_ Bucky: Hang out with me  _

It takes a moment, but she responds. 

_ Nat: Shouldn’t you be screwing your boyfriend?  _

Bucky glares at his phone even though she can’t see it. She probably knows. 

_ Bucky: We do more than just fuck, you know! _

_ Bucky:...He’s been working all day. He told me to go out.  _

_ Nat: Do we have to actually go somewhere?  _

Bucky snorted out loud. 

_ Bucky: Of course not. _

_ Nat: Okay. Come to my house? I’m on my PS4 right now. Very important _

_ Bucky: Oh, sure. Be there whenever _

_ Nat: See you whenever _

Bucky went upstairs to make himself presentable. He put on real pants and a clean shirt, but pulled his stolen sweatshirt back on over it. He tied his hair in a real bun instead of just a ponytail, shaking his head around to see if it holds before he pulled his shoes on. 

When he got downstairs, Steve said, “You going to see Sam?” 

“Nat, actually.” Bucky says. Steve nods and gets up. 

“Have fun, beautiful. I’ll be here when you get back.” Steve kisses him quickly and Bucky grabs his keys and walks to the door. 

“See you later,” He says, closing the door and walking to his car. 

Once he’d gotten his car started and sat down, he took the opportunity to groan loudly. Fucking  _ Steve.  _

 

Nat only lives about ten minutes away from Bucky’s own house, but it’s almost half an hour from Steve’s. On the way he stops to get them both iced coffee because he only had one cup before he left Steve’s house and also because it’ll make Nat happy. She’s the one who’s gonna have to listen to him bitch all afternoon. 

When he gets there he walks right in and upstairs to her room. Normally he encounters one of her siblings or parents when he does this, but the house is quiet. Except for Natasha, of course, who yells, “Mother _ fucker!”  _ at the game she’s playing the moment he opens the door. 

“Hello to you too,” He muses. She pauses her game and glances over. She gasps happily; he’s got a plastic cup in either hand. 

“Caramel, or chocolate?” Bucky asks. 

“Caramel, please,” Nat smiles. She always says caramel, but he always asks anyway. One time, months ago, she  _ did  _ say chocolate. He hands her the cup and settles down onto her bed next to her. She sits up and sets her controller aside. 

“Have you eaten yet?” 

He nods. “Before I left, yeah.” 

“Aren’t Sundays supposed to be, like, sacred? You skip parties on Saturday nights just so you don’t have a hangover on Steve- day.” 

“Well they’re  _ supposed  _ to be!” Bucky gestures while he speaks, the ice in his cup rattling as he waves it around. “But apparently I’m insane and Steve is perfectly fine with me leaving just so he can work.” 

“I’m sure he’s just stressed, James. Relax.” She pulls the covers over herself and holds them up, offering him some. He sets his coffee on the nightstand so he can lay down. 

“Shouldn’t you be seeing  _ your  _ boyfriend today?” Bucky challenges. He doesn’t think she and Clint hung out yesterday, so normally they would today. 

“I’m seeing you. I’m busy.” She shrugs. Bucky smiles warmly. 

Natasha says, “You can’t hate Steve  _ that  _ much if you’re prancing around wearing his sweatshirt like a dress.” 

Bucky scoffs. “It’s not that big on me. I don’t hate him, I’m just pissy. Should I not be pissy?” 

“I think your attitude is justified. But. Does Steve  _ know  _ you’re pissy?” 

“No,” Bucky admits. 

Nat hums. “You have to tell him then. Not now, don’t text him. But. When you get back.” 

Bucky sighs. “Yeah. I know.” 

Nat drops it after that, and Bucky starts checking his messages, his Twitter and Instagram. Natasha goes back to killing zombies or whatever she’s doing, but she does so curled up with Bucky. Every once in a while she kicks him, and he’ll subsequently shove at her controller to fuck up whatever she’s trying to do. 

Bucky says, “Could I text him?” 

Without looking at Bucky: “And say?” 

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t know. I just.. Y’know?” 

“I know, James. Don’t worry about it right now, okay?” 

-

Bucky’s been not- quite- dozing and watching Natasha fail spectacularly at stealth missions for at least a couple hours now. He says, “Will you braid my hair?” 

Natasha says, “Will you braid mine?” 

“If you want,” Bucky snorts. She taught him to braid hair a long time ago, but he learned on her hair and not his own, so he struggles with doing his hair himself. He’s an expert at Natasha’s, though. 

He goes first, kneeling up with Nat sitting cross legged in front of him. She rifles through her nightstand for an elastic to use, and he stashes it around his wrist before he grabs small sections of soft hair right above her forehead, twisting them firmly.

Bucky likes Natasha’s hair, it’s red and wavy and she puts something in it that always leaves his hands smelling nice whenever he does anything to it. Natasha is also the one who shows him things like products to put in his eyebrows to make them  _ defined  _ and  _ organized,  _ and she taught him to pull tiny wisps of hair from his ponytails so they frame his face or whatever. Bucky’s tugging rhythmically at her hair, not actually pulling it but making the braid tight enough to keep her hair off her face. It’s slow going, he’s still new at this, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Nobody’s going to be seeing it anyway. She tilts her head when he needs her to and starts talking about anything she can think of. 

She tells Bucky her family are all out at an aquarium of all places, and she just really didn’t want to have to experience that. She likes sea creatures, but they’ve gotta be unhappy in those tanks, don’t you think, James? 

She tells Bucky about getting past the part of her game she was stuck on, and how she thinks she did pretty okay on her midterms, but she worried about one or two of them. Bucky knew she was trying to distract him, but it was nice, since it was actually working. Bucky told her about  _ his  _ tests, and seeing Sam and everyone night prior, and how he made friends with a stray cat the other day outside of his house and so now he keeps a bag of cat food in garage so he can set some out for her in a cereal bowl every night. 

When Bucky’s done, he ties the braid off at the end and they trade places. Natasha touches the back of her head to feel the braid, and smiles. She pats the comforter in front of her to tell Bucky to sit down. He does and tilts his head back. 

She strokes and finger- combs his hair for a few moments before she gathers it into sections. “What is it about today that’s actually bugging you?” 

Bucky’s tempted to twist around and look at her, but she keeps hold of his hair, so he stays put. “I don’t know. I just always look forward to it.” 

“Does he know that?” 

Bucky shrugs. “I thought he did. I thought it was a, like, mutual thing,” Bucky says. He’s pretty sure Nat nods, but he can’t see her. Probably she did. “It’s only one day a week, you know?” 

Nat says, “Ah. That’s it.” 

“What is?” 

“You don’t feel… kinda like he blew you off?” 

Bucky shrugs. “I mean. I don’t know. I guess, kinda.” 

“Did you guys do anything this week?” 

Bucky says, “Not really. I got there late last night but that’s it.” 

“Hmm. So it’s been since last Sunday, then? Since you hung out for real?”

Bucky shrugs. He’s getting uncomfortable, so he focuses instead on Nat’s tugging at his hair. It’s soothing, which is probably why she picked now to ask him about it. 

“James.” 

“Hm?” 

Bucky realizes what she’s trying to tell him about just after he’s asked. Bucky’s phone is vibrating from somewhere in the bed. Nat holds his hair in one hand and fishes it out of the covers for him with the other. She glances at it and smiles when she hands it to him. 

_ Steve: Have dinner with me later? _

_ Steve: If you don’t already have plans. _

Bucky sighs. Of  _ course  _ he wants to, but. He’s- he’s trying his best to be  _ upset  _ with Steve, alright? His heart is jumping around his chest. 

“Are you gonna go?” Natasha asks him. 

Bucky sighs. “Of course I am” 

Nat starts to tie his hair off and says, “But you’re still hurt.” 

“I’m not as upset that he was  _ working,  _ but he didn’t even want me in the house.” Bucky explains. 

“Yes, he did, but he felt bad that you were sitting around alone.” 

“You don’t know that,” Bucky says as Nat turns him around and, with softness all over her face, pulls tiny strands of hair out of his braid, at his sideburns and at the crown of his head where they’d fall on his face kind of pretty. “Yes, I do.” 

She puts a hand on Bucky’s cheek and kisses his forehead. 

“Text your boyfriend that you’ll be back in an hour or so,” Natasha tells him. He does. 

_ Bucky: Of course. I’ll be back soon.  _

He sits with Natasha for a little longer, but it’s kind of a drive back to Steve’s. She assures him he looks  _ just fine, James. I wouldn’t let you leave my house looking like a mess.  _

Bucky drives himself home after thanking Nat for dealing with him. She said he’s very welcome, and next time she’s on the verge of losing her shit she’ll be sure to come lay in his bed. That’s only fair. 

-

When Bucky walks in, Steve’s finally decided to move from the table to the couch, and the TV is on quietly while he reads something. He quickly twists around at the sound of the door opening and sets his novel down. 

“Hey, Bucky,” He says as he stands up, “How was your day?” 

“Good. We killed zombies.” Bucky responds, even though he hadn’t done any of his own zombie killing. Steve pulls him into a hug and takes a deep breath when Bucky’s arms are around him. Bucky closes his eyes too, turns his head into Steve’s chest and wonders how Steve talked him into leaving the house. His eyes sting just a little bit, he wasn’t supposed to need to  _ long  _ for Steve today, it’s  _ Sunday.  _

_ Bucky, you are  _ not  _ about to cry over this,  _ his brain supplies. Shut the fuck up, brain. 

Steve lets go of Bucky and says, “I was gonna order food in a little bit, is that alright?”

Nodding, “Yeah, ‘course.” 

“You guys had fun?”

“Oh, yeah. I fell asleep. Nat blew stuff up. She did my hair. Totally an exciting time.” 

“Your hair looks pretty.” 

“Oh. Thanks.”

Then, Steve fucking says, “I missed you today.” 

Bucky’s face scrunches. His gaze moves up to Steve’s very slowly. “You-  _ what?”  _

Steve’s confused; “I.. Missed you today. What’s going on?” 

“I mean, you  _ told  _ me to leave the house. Forgive me if I don’t really understand-”

“Well, it would’ve been boring if you’d have been here while- you know..”

“But what’s even so important about grading _anyway?_ Nobody else is going to have midterms graded by tomorrow, so it’s not like you’re disappointing anyone if you for _once_ don’t fucking need to-” Bucky realizes this is kind of coming from nowhere, but come on. Steve was a grown  up, he could put two and two together.

Steve’s brow is furrowed like he’s thinking really hard. He says, “Bucky, I know, it’s just- a thing.” Steve sighs again.

Bucky switches gears instead of finishing his prior thought thought. “Steve. Honestly. It is Sunday. Everyone knows we do Sunday. I know it, Nat knows it,  _ you  _ know it, and honestly?  Next time you don’t want me around here, just tell me. Really.” Bucky says weakly. He doesn’t know how he feels once he’s said it, because it isn’t untrue, but it’s a little bit of a reach. He hopes it is, anyway. He hopes he’s wrong. 

Steve’s face softens and he says, “Oh,  _ Bucky,  _ you don’t think that I… that I actually..” 

Steve’s eyes move to the floor. He took a very long deep breath, rubbed both hands down his face. The silence weighs a ton on Bucky’s chest and he wants to take every word he let out and shove it back behind his quivering lip. He can’t, though, because Steve heard and now Steve’s putting his hands in his pockets because he’s uncomfortable.

“I just. I Had a lot of work to do, and I was just trying-” Steve pauses to put his head in his hands and whisper  _ fuck  _ under his breath. Bucky shakes his head. 

“Steve, it’s... You know what? I’m sorry. I blew up. don’t worry about it.” Bucky says finally. He feels kind of sick, honestly. 

“Bucky..” 

“No, really. I have homework. You can..” He waves his hand generally. “Whatever you need to do.” 

Steve watches as Bucky goes upstairs, closes the bedroom door until it’s only open the barest little crack. 

Bucky, numb, actually does grab his bag and pull his work out of it. He meant to do it in study hall tomorrow, but. You know. 

-

Bucky has to laugh, actually, because he realizes one of the two assignments he hadn’t completed on Friday was the stupid fucking calculus Steve had assigned them. Of course, not that he really knows what he’s doing, but what’s he gonna do? He flips back and forth through his notes until he kind of knows what’s going on. He winds up needing to text Sam so they could compare their answers. Fucking ridiculous. 

-

It’s almost an hour later when Steve pushes the door open slowly. Bucky’s on the floor still, using the eraser end of a pencil to hit the buttons on his calculator. 

Steve says, “Hey,” and kneels down onto the floor too. Bucky says, “Hey,” 

“Can I see?” He looks at Bucky’s notebook where the same problem is taking up the entire page. Bucky hands it to him. 

Steve’s eyes squint as he follows Bucky’s math, 

“It looks right to me. I haven’t done the homework yet so I don’t know what the answer is supposed to be.” Steve hands him the book back. 

Bucky says, “That’s the same answer Sam got,” 

“I trust that. You two are smart.” Steve nods. 

“Yeah.” 

“Hey, Buck,” 

“Mm?” Bucky looks at him with wide eyes.

Steve sighs. “I’m- I’m really sorry. I’ve been ignoring you and brushing you off all weekend. Probably during the week too,” which was absolutely true, by the way, “That’s not okay for me to do. I don’t ever want you to feel like I don’t want you around me; it’ll never be true. I get, uh, distracted. But I don’t ever stop wanting you.” He says, voice cracking once or twice. It sounds.. Rehearsed. Not in a bad way. Not at all. The way Steve sounds during a lesson when he’s saying the same thing for the fourth time that day. Bucky feels- kinda small. A little like he might cry. Relief flattens him like post- hurricane floods. He rips his gaze away from Steve’s as he shifts a little bit. 

“It’s- I didn’t say anything, and I should have, you know? You don’t read minds. It’s okay, I mean. It’s- I’m not mad.” 

Steve puts a warm hand on the side of Bucky’s face and Bucky leans into the touch. It’s exhausting, being upset with Steve. Absolutely maddening. Bucky’s eyes flutter shut. “I missed you, too. Today.” He mumbles. 

Steve gives a sad little  _ tsk,  _ “I hate being here without you. It’s so quiet and dull. And you’re so beautiful.” Steve’s laying it on thick, fuck, it’s making Bucky’s eyes sting a little bit. He whines. 

“Do you know how much I hate  _ sleeping _ without you here?” Steve continues, “So hard not to see you all the time, every minute.” 

Steve’s shifting now, kneeling up and tugging Bucky with him. Bucky’s hands find his way under Steve’s shirt, not trying to get it off but just seeking skin. 

“That might be bad, though,” Steve mumbles, ducking his head into Bucky’s neck, “Because if you were here all the time I might never get anything done,” He pets over Bucky’s braid, careful not to mess it up. “I’d just pay attention to you all day, wouldn’t I? But you deserve it.” 

Bucky’s, like, panting. He  _ feels  _ too much. He pulls Steve down the last little bit to kiss him. Steve does, of course he does. Why wouldn’t he? He pulls control away from Bucky as if Bucky ever had any in the first place. Bucky whimpers and grips Steve’s hips harder, slides his hands further up. 

Steve takes a hand and uses it to brush over Bucky’s collarbones through his shirt, asking. Bucky nods. 

“I had you here all the time, I might never leave my room. I might just keep you holed up in there,” He’s yanking the collar of Bucky’s shirt down, baring sharp, unmarked collarbones. He sets about covering Bucky in bruises there, so that Bucky has something to marvel at in the mirror for the next several days. 

But Bucky’s trembling, whining without meaning to, and his grip on Steve’s hips is hurting his hands a little bit. It can’t be comfortable for Steve, but if it does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. 

Bucky grips Steve’s hair as best he can, cropped short as it is. Steve makes an approving noise. 

Steve bites down  _ particularly  _ hard on a little spot of skin he’d been sucking on for a few moments, so the blood had rushed to it and it hurt just that little bit extra. Bucky shuddered and rolled his hips into the empty air between himself and Steve. His knees are starting to hurt just a little bit, but he can’t be bothered. Steve makes a frustrated growling noise and grabs the hem of Bucky’s shirt.  When Bucky nods, he pulls his shirt up and over his head and lets it fall to the floor. The air is cold, and goosebumps raise his skin. Steve thumbs one of Bucky’s nipples until he keens and it grows hard even beneath Steve’s warm hands. Bucky begins to shove at Steve’s shirt, too, but Steve raises his eyebrows and tells Bucky to  _ wait  _ with his eyes. Bucky pouts. 

Steve captures his lips in another kiss, and Bucky begins to stand and try to get them both onto the bed at some goddamn point today, please and thanks. 

While they’re up, Steve undoes the button on Bucky’s jeans but doesn’t actually move to take them off. 

“Hey, sweetheart, what do you want? You can pick.” Steve mumbles against Bucky’s lips. 

“I- fuck, uh-” Bucky pants.  He doesn’t know! The obvious answer to that is probably  _ fuck me,  _ and like, yeah, but what  _ else?  _ Have an original idea for once, Barnes. 

Their kiss breaks except for the fact that they’re both still panting and touching each other as if they  _ were  _ kissing. Bucky crawls onto the bed,  _ that’s _ what he wants. He feels so  _ needy,  _ like if he doesn’t constantly touch Steve, he might evaporate into the air. He tugs at Steve, but he doesn’t join Bucky, opting to stand next to the bed and let Bucky kneel up to meet him. He towered over Bucky like this. Bucky tilted his head back up for a kiss, all he got was Steve’s thumb over his lips. Bucky sucks it in gratefully nonetheless. Steve begins talking. 

“I’m gonna make it easy, okay, baby? I’m gonna give you choices. Nod if you understand.” 

Bucky nods. 

“Okay. So. I could fuck you,” Steve says, moving a hand down to rub at Bucky’s cock through his jeans. (Great minds think alike, huh?).  Bucky whimpers pitifully and sucks harder at Steve’s thumb. Steve pulls it out only long enough to replace it with two fingers. The having something to suck and lick at was putting him at ease.  “I could hurt you,” he smirks. Bucky lets out a shaky breath. Steve’s got rope and handcuffs in the closet, sex toys and a  _ few  _ different devices that are specifically for hitting Bucky (Although Bucky still prefers when Steve just hits him barehanded). “I can just use my hands on you,” although what he would do  _ with  _ his hands remains unsaid. Jerk him off, maybe? Finger him open, until he’s a panting, writhing mess on the bed and Steve-- well..“Or, you could let me surprise you.” 

Okay, shit. That’s dangerous. Surprise him how? Surprise him by doing something probably  _ very  _ mean. Or completely, unbearably sweet. Last week, Bucky told Steve to surprise him and Steve wound up sucking Bucky’s dick, except he made him come  _ three  _ times, only stopping once to say to Bucky, “What? I’m trying to be sweet to you. Don’t be ungrateful.” when Bucky whined that it hurt, which it  _ did.  _

Yeah, that was fun. The time before that, however, Steve had just kissed him and jerked him off, called him sweet names while Bucky trembled and broke apart in his hands. 

Bucky realizes he actually needs to answer. Steve’s still palming him through his jeans and it is  _ not  _ helping him to think clearly. He pulls his fingers out of Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky’s voice is rough. “Ah, fuck, surprise me? Please?” 

Steve smirks. “You want me to pick, then?”  Bucky nods. “Even if what I wanted was to fuck your pretty braid up and pull you around by your hair? What if I want to fuck you and not even touch your cock? You can’t come like that, can you?” Bucky genuinely moans out loud just from the thought. It’s mean, because  _ no, Bucky can’t.  _ He’s tried. 

“I- any of it. All of it, please?” That sounds terrible. Bucky’s really,  _ really  _ okay with that. 

Steve chuckles. “Hmm. Not today. Soon.” He promises. Bucky whines, disappointed even if a tiny part of him is grateful. 

“What  _ do  _ you want to do, Steve?” Bucky whines. 

Steve hums once, pretending to consider. “Let’s get those off of you,” he begins. Bucky pulls his jeans off, but it’s an awkward operation because he’s still kneeling up on the bed. Bucky’s eventually able to yank them off and throw them unceremoniously to the floor to be dealt with later. He looks up at Steve. 

“You gonna stay up there all day, or were you planning on coming down here with the rest of us?” 

Steve smiles. Chuckles a little. 

And shoves Bucky flat against the bed by a hand around his throat.  

Bucky’s sprawled on his back with his legs open lazily and each bent a small bit. Steve puts a knee down in the mattress space between Bucky’s legs, effectively straddling one of Bucky’s thighs. Steve takes his hand off of Bucky’s throat much sooner than Bucky would’ve liked. 

 

It becomes, of course, a question of who is actually technically straddling whom, since Bucky is the one who ends up grinding against Steve’s hard thigh, closing his knees around it to

hold it in place and get more pressure. Steve seems to be able to ignore his own cock for the time being. Although Bucky still has his boxers on, the denim feels rough and unforgiving against his skin. He thinks he whines, tilting his head back to expose his neck. 

“Steve, honey. Baby. Please, I don’t- I-” Bucky babbles. 

“Are those supposed to be sentences?” Steve condescends. “You’ll need to clarify,”

Bucky sucks a breath in between his teeth. 

“What were you thinking of doing?” He asks. 

“Is this a confirming your limits question, or are you being impatient and petulant?” If it was the former, Steve would stop immediately so they could  _ discuss,  _ and whatever. 

But, of course, Bucky isn’t so much worried about that. “Uh.. the latter?” 

“Uh- huh. You need to be patient. You don’t see  _ me  _ getting so cock- hungry all the time, do you?”  Bucky groans and thumps his head down as Steve contrasts the snark with a sweet and hard press of his thigh against Bucky’s cock.

Steve sits up to pull Bucky’s boxers off of him, and when he does, Bucky gasps breathily. He looks at himself with almost the same amount of wonder that Steve is. His cock is standing straight up, and although he could  _ feel  _ it pulsing with need he hadn’t thought to consider whether the tip of his cock would be shiny and wet. It looks dark red, but his chest looks flushed. Steve continues to scrutinize him. He runs a single finger up and down the length of Bucky’s dick, and Bucky gasped and moaned far too loudly. Steve says, “Oh, did you want me to do something about that?” 

“Ah, yeah, oh  _ fuck,”  _ Steve takes Bucky’s cock in his hand and strokes it lightly, “Yeah, something, please. God.” It occurs to Bucky that he just took off the last of his clothing, and Steve was still in jeans and a shirt. He feels all the more vulnerable for it.

“Ask nicely.” 

Bucky’s pretty sure he just  _ did,  _ but whatever. Bucky has yet to see he say Steve isn’t a demanding asshole. The other thing is, he’s  _ still fucking stroking Bucky’s cock.  _ Feather- light and weak, hardly anything at all. It’s just enough for him to ache and want more so badly that it consumes him. 

“Uh, um.. God- please, Steve? Touch me, or do whatever you want, I don’t care I just  _ need it,  _ please?” 

Whether Steve knows or not that that’s all Bucky has in him right now doesn’t seem to matter, because he nods and says, “Well of course, sweetheart,” and slinks further down the bed. 

And holy  _ fuck,  _ if Steve’s about to suck Bucky’s cock, Bucky might die. His hands begin to shake in anticipation. 

Steve ghosts his mouth over Bucky’s erection, grabbing it in one hand and just  _ hardly  _ not pressing his lips to it. Bucky thinks he whines out,  _ please,  _ because Steve twists to get a tiny bottle of lube from the nightstand, but just sets it next to himself and doesn’t slick his hand up before he wraps it around Bucky’s cock firmly. Before Bucky’s even done reeling over the pressure, Steve’s settling himself lower down on the bed, and he pulls Bucky’s ass open with his free hand. Licks a fat, wet stripe right from just behind Bucky’s balls to the top of his ass. 

Bucky. Fucking.  _ Wails.  _ Steve doesn’t stop either, even as Bucky’s shocked hips arch off the bed, he keeps his mouth over Bucky’s hole, licking and sucking him loose and open. Bucky begins to tremble very soon after Steve begins, using one hand to cover part of his face and the other to grab at Steve’s hair again. Steve either doesn’t mind or doesn’t feel like reprimanding Bucky right now, because he allows it to happen. He’s still steadily and firmly stroking Bucky’s cock, so even as his mouth speeds up, slows down, Bucky’s always still writhing over the constant pressure on his cock. 

Bucky eventually feels Steve’s tongue just barely  _ inside  _ of him, and he fucking loses his shit. “Steve, I- god, you need to stop soon unless I’m allowed to come,” It pains him to stay, because the chances of him saying, ‘ _ oh sure, Buck, go on,’  _ are pretty slim. Steve just hums though, and takes his hand off of Bucky’s cock. It’s a relief and a torture at the same time, because he’s not teetering on the edge anymore, but Steve’s still licking over his hole and keeping Bucky  _ almost  _ there. Bucky wants to sob, it’s too much. 

“I can’t, Steve, I-  _ oh,”  _ He cuts himself off when Steve presses a slick finger into Bucky’s ass. Bucky’s fucking  _ elated.  _ He can work with that. Steve gets more lube and adds a second finger soon after the first because Bucky was so loose and relaxed already. Bucky pants and arches his back into it.

“Steve. Steve, ah- more,please? Oh  _ fuck,”  _ Bucky cries. He doesn’t even know what he wants, alright? But he thinks if he just begs for it enough Steve will figure it out. He always does. Eventually, he does help Bucky out, curling and twisting his fingers so he can find-

Bucky lets out a shattered,  _ Ah-hh,  _ noise and, yeah. There it is. 

Now Bucky’s really writhing. How much longer can he do this until it kills him?

With his fingers in Bucky’s hole, Steve’s mouth is free again. He begins to ramble, “You’re just so beautiful, aren’t you? Does that hurt, sweetheart? Should I make you come?” 

Bucky moans, “ _ Yes,  _ please, oh,  _ fuck.  _ I can’t- Steve.” 

Steve smiles. Bucky really won’t be able to come unless Steve touches his cock again. Bucky’s tried, the poor thing. Steve says, “Whenever you’re ready, honey, go ahead,” and takes Bucky’s cock into his mouth. Bucky makes what is maybe one, or two, or a hundred broken noises in the short couple of minutes before he comes in Steve’s mouth, panting out an incoherent attempt at a warning before he whites out completely. 

-

Steve’s stroking Bucky’s hair when he decides he’s ready to come out of his floaty haze and back into their room. Bucky’s pretty sure Steve is pulling the elastic out of his hair to- yeah, naturally-  pull the sections apart, made wavy by sweat and hours. 

“Are you back with me, my love?” Steve cooes. It occurs to Bucky that Steve didn’t get off, and he mumbles something about that. He’s thinking about getting up to suck Steve off or something, but he just says, “Hey, it’s okay. Lie back down. I’m okay, don’t worry.”  

Steve gathers Bucky up against his chest, His clothes feel rough against Bucky’s bare skin but Bucky lets himself be gathered anyway, especially with Steve pulling the huge comforter over them both. The sheets are clean, and cool, and Bucky drifts off to sleep. 

-

Not much time has passed before Bucky wakes up. There’s drying lube on his skin, and he’s pretty hungry, come to think of it. 

There is  _ also _ Steve, next to him in bed sitting up against the headboard and looking at something on his phone. Bucky curls against him more. With Bucky laying fully down, he’s curling himself straight into the side of Steve’s leg.

“Hey, beautiful. Are you awake?” He whispers. 

Bucky nods but doesn’t move. Steve chuckles. “Could you open your eyes for me?” 

When he does, the first thing he notices is the light in there is pleasantly low, which means Bucky was out hard enough that he didn’t notice Steve getting up to adjust the dimmer switch. He smiles. 

Steve says, “How about you get dressed and cleaned up and then we get some food in you, huh?” 

Bucky nods, sitting up for a few moments. The clock tells him it’s not even eleven yet, so Bucky would still have been awake right now anyway. He’s glad it isn’t the middle of the night. Steve tells Bucky he’ll just make some sandwiches or something while Bucky got cleaned up. Bucky says that’s okay, not because he likes very much when Steve treats him so kindly as much as Steve always makes  _ really  _ tasty sandwiches- on good bread and everything. 

Bucky comes downstairs wearing sweatpants and a clean shirt, his hair combed and put back neatly. Steve smiles when he serves their food, and they don’t talk much while they eat. They do exchange shy smiles every time their eyes meet. 

Once whatever stupid algorithm Steve runs on when it comes to Bucky has been met, and he decides Bucky’s eaten enough, (Although ‘enough’ changes, like, every time) he grabs Bucky’s hand to lace their fingers together and tug

him back upstairs where they can lay down together. Bucky puts his head on Steve’s chest and closes his eyes. Steve’s arm is around him. Steve whispers into Bucky’s hair, “You’re the most important thing I have, alright? Got that?” 

Bucky nods. 


End file.
